When You Were Gone
by TheInternetHomo
Summary: Words can hurt, and cause terrifying chain reactions. Phan one-shot.


"Phil, please come back."  
"No, Dan. I'm done." Phil slams the flat door, leaving Dan in a painful silence before the brown haired boys cries tear through the air. How could this have happened? He and Phil never fought. Never. And this was just a stupid argument over a jacket for Christ's sake. Words that he hadn't meant had flown out of his mouth before he could stop them. He was foolish, and now Phil was gone.

-Three Months Later-

Dan hadn't heard from Phil for months. He was worried. Worried sick, actually. He began to have breakdowns, he stopped making videos for a month, he never left the empty flat. It was his fault that Phil might be somewhere where he wasn't safe. He called and texted him every day for three months, never giving up.

But Phil never answered.

Dan almost filed a missing persons report. But he didn't.

That would be a bit overboard.

He only left the house twice in the three month gap. Once to pick up the new Pokemon game, the second for his job. After Phil left, the Dan and Phil show had been put on a kind of hiatus, leaving Dan to find a new, hopefully temporary, way to pay the bills. Yes, YouTube did pay well, but he could hardly be bothered to continue making regular videos. Phil had stopped vlogging, so Dan stopped vlogging. It was like a never ending chain reaction; the longer Phil was gone, the more Dan drifted.

Dan didn't actually have a job. He just liked to tell himself he did.

The second time he left his lonely home was the time he was supposed to leave for good.

That was sort of a job, wasn't it? Maybe it was more of a chore.

Before leaving for a final time, Dan put on his best suit for some unknown reason. He didn't even know. Maybe it was just his dramatic side shining through. This was going to be a dramatic night, after all.

It was raining lightly, but you could still see the stars littered across the sky; Dan's favorite weather. His stride was confident and his hands were shy, buried deep into his pockets. His hair was ruffled and curly from the misting and his laziness. Brown eyes glanced at the reflection of his figure in a store window. He looked good, and he knew it.

How ironic.

He had even bought a new pair of shoes for the occasion; all black Chuck Taylor's. The rubber rimming was as dark as the cloth siding and tongue. He rather liked them, and really hoped to not dirty them in this slightly dirty process. Maybe someone else could use them. Then again, would anyone really go so low as to take a nice pair of shoes from a dead guy? Probably. It was London, after all.

Dan walked for about thirty minutes, or until he no longer knew where he was, he wasn't sure which came first that night. He saw a Starbucks and almost considered stopping for about two seconds. The urge faded quickly when he spotted a grouping of automobiles rumbling at a red light, ready to stampede forward. He smiled softly to himself, his hands peeking out from his pockets to roll up his sleeves.

He hadn't smiled in weeks.

He was ready.

His plan ran through his head in a flash like a herd of gazelle. A black iPhone made its way into his hand and twitter almost seemed to open itself.

"Goodbye Internet. It was fun."

He kept the phone in his grasp after the message posted. A flurry of replies swarmed over him almost immediately. His stomach lurched just a bit; he didn't want anyone, any of his fans, to be seriously effected. His index finger found the power button and his eyes found the street.

He was so ready.

"Dan?"

The voice, that voice, that called him was smooth as honey, even with the light, almost nonexistent northern twang. Dan didn't turn in the fear of what he might see. He was crazy.

"I'm crazy," he muttered to himself quietly, almost harshly. He was scolding himself.

The iPhone was gently removed from his hand and replaced with something softer, and much warmer. Pressure surrounded his hand in a light squeeze as it was lifted up, greeted with something even softer. Lips? No. It couldn't be. He swiveled in an act of courage towards the warmth.

He collapsed.

He didn't sob, he didn't yell, he didn't make a sound. He just fell into Phil's lanky but perfect arms.

Phil bent down onto the sidewalk because of all the weight Dan had put on him; he didn't want to drop his love again. Phil collected Dan into his arms, wrapping himself around him, almost imitating how he had wrapped himself around the younger boys heart. He fisted the brown curly locks gently, showing absolutely no signs of letting go. He struggled to form words, only being able to whisper a watery and almost pathetic "I'm sorry".

That's when Dan finally broke down.

* * *

Thanks for reading! I'd love it if you were to leave a review!

Phancakes!

~TheInternetHomo~


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